


The Gospel According to Castiel

by kaywinnetleigh



Series: The Gospel According to Castiel [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 19:23:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaywinnetleigh/pseuds/kaywinnetleigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is slowly discovering there may have been a few mistranslations over the past millenia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gospel According to Castiel

Sam was leaned back in one of the plush leather armchairs of the bunker, his long legs stretched out in front of him, wiggling his toes extravagantly as he freed his feet from his heavy work boots. He rolled his head, trying to pop a kink in his neck, his body sinking further and further down as the weariness in his core took over. He reached out to the stand beside him and grabbed the nearest book his fingers laid upon.  


The Bible.  


Sam certainly had a love/hate relationship with the good book nowadays, given everything that had happened to him, but he still found comfort in it's pages, a certainty his life missed hidden between each line. He always wondered if it was a fascination he'd inherited from his mother, but he knew better than to ever ask.  


"What are you reading?" Castiel asked, shuffling into the room in his ever-present oversized hoodie and socks so large they were sliding off his feet. He'd only been back at the bunker a few weeks now and he'd become a kind of walking laundry basket, layer upon layer of clothing engulfing him every morning, as if his bones themselves had chilled while living on the streets.  


"Exodus," Sam told him, peeking out beneath his eyelashes. "The angel and Moses on Mount Horeb."  


Cas froze in the middle of curling himself into the couch, his brow furrowing tightly in confusion.  


"That's actually in there?"  


Sam laughed, a brilliant smile cracking across his drawn face.  


"Yeah, Cas, that's in here. Why wouldn't it be?"  


"That conversation didn't really go as my father intended," Cas sighed, collapsing into his seat. "I'm surprised Moses would leave that in to be shared with his people."  


"Why wouldn't he? What was supposed to happen?"  


"You would think Father would have learned after the incident with Mary of Nazareth, but he still insisted on using Gabriel's histrionics."  


"Why is it always Gabriel?" Sam muttered to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.  


"All he was supposed to do was tell him to lead the elders to Canaan. That was _all_ Father wanted, but of course he couldn't just do that. He spent the whole time talking in riddles and picking on poor Moses' sandals. Humans had barely grasped the concept of the wheel, and Gabriel is ruminating on their fashion choices."  


Sam silently marked his place in his book but didn't set it aside, not wanting to distract Cas and interrupt his story. He always liked when Cas reminisced like this, even though it often left his long-held beliefs in tatters.  


"To top it all off he set the local shrubbery on fire. He couldn't just take a vessel like anyone else in the garrison, Gabriel always had to be the theatrical one. Father was furious. He needed-- he _loved_ Moses, and he made him, made _all of us_ look like a laughingstock."  


Cas paused, pulling a blanket around his shoulders and falling down onto his side, the deep wrinkle in his brow receding just the slightest bit. Usually Cas looked lost, at most he looked angry. Now Sam thought he looked sad, and his heart broke a little further for the wayward angel.  


"Fortunately humans are always prone to seeing deeper meaning where there is none," Cas said finally. "Father was often fortuitous like that."  


"Isn't that kind of his job?" Sam asked, standing to put the book back on the shelf.  


"I suppose," Cas said as he pulled his feet up into his chest, making room for Sam to sit on the cushion beside him. "Though I never would have called it a job before I came here."  


Sam flicked the ancient TV set on before he sat down, finding some sappy Christmas special on Cas's favorite channel. Sam found it so sweet it made his teeth hurt but it always made Cas happy, that look of wonder settling back into his haggard features.  


"You wouldn't have said that when I first met you. Things change, man."  


"That they do," Cas grunted, pulling another blanket tightly around his head.


End file.
